


Through thick and thin

by PrinceNotSoCharming



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 12:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11989458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceNotSoCharming/pseuds/PrinceNotSoCharming
Summary: Find someone who will love you through thick and thin, they say.





	Through thick and thin

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I just jumped onto the AoKaga bandwagon and this is my first fic, so please excuse me if it's too sloppy. It's kinda short too, I know.  
> As the title says, I'd like to think they're there for each other through thick and thin..

  It was exactly seven minutes past eleven o'clock in the evening and the only source of sound in the tiny apartment - beside the ticking clock and steady hum of the fridge - was Aomine's not-so-steady breathing.

  He sat tucked away in the furthest corner of the king sized bed, huddled underneath the biggest, warmest blanket he'd ever seen, his nose runny and red from the constant blowing.

  Three days ago he managed to catch a nasty case of cold which forced the otherwise proud young man to separate himself from the outside world and leave to die in peace. Since then, he stayed hidden in the thirty two square metres big space he called home, hoping against hope that sleep, broth and tea would eventually magically cure him from the death sentence of cold. Three days and nine litres of honeyed tea later, he was actually feeling just as miserable as on the first day.

  He had to admit that most of the misery was caused by him missing shitload of classes right before the end of his first semester. It made him so damn nervous! It was like the whole university thing made him into a sack of stress wrapped in pretty clothes and ink-stained skin. Yeah, the once Mr. Aomine Fuck-it-all Daiki wrote assignment notes on his forearms when he didn't have enough time to put out his phone. Fuck, he'd even lost some weight!

  And now Aomine received the final nail in his figurative coffin - the cold. Kagami laughed at him when he first informed him about his nearing end, even went as far as to call Aomine's red nose and puffy eyes cute.

  "It's just cold, you idiot," his laughter rang through their shared single-room apartment, "it's not like you're dying."

  "I might be!" Aomine sputtered. He looked up from his one-hundred-and-thirty-seventh cup of tea, pout going on full-force. The bastard only laughed louder. Aomine was seriously tempted to just throw the box of tissues at him. "It's not funny, moron! You'll cry once I'm gone!"

  Kagami snorted. He lifted one hand from the notebook keyboard and made a gesture as if reading: "I can almost see the grave stone: Here lies Aomine, decent baller and professional asshole, killed by cold in the tender age of nineteen. Rest in Peace."

  That was the moment Aomine hurled a pillow at his head, but also the moment when he spilled the hot tea all over their bed. Just his luck.

  People who said Kagami Taiga was innocent little angel seriously need to shut the fuck up. It was on Aomine's second day of the journey to underworld when the redhead plopped onto the bed next to him, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He just came back from the English class - one of the few classes they shared - and seemed all too pleased with himself, looking as if he managed to beat the whole Cavs roster.

  "So," he clicked his tongue. Aomine immediately wanted to clock him. "I brought you your homework. And fruit. There's also another box of tissues in the backpack, in case you still wanna play tap." Oh, Aomine will definitely haunt him once he dies. Kagami made nothing of his threats. One of his hands started its blind crusade under the blanket, slowly creeping down Aomine's side until it found the hem of his sleeping shirt.

  "When we're talking about tapping.." Kagami scooted closer, his big, cold, still clothed body entering Aomine's warm blanket haven. "You know, it might help. You need to sweat, don't you?" The words were whispered into his sweaty-sticky hair. Aomine could feel the beginning of stubble scrape over his temple and he shivered, involuntary. Since they entered college, the redhead stopped shaving daily. Aomine wasn't sure whether he was trying to look older or if it was just his laziness finally getting grip of him, but he didn't complain. Stubble, beard, even fucking goatee - Kagami could pull off anything and still look insanely hot. The problem was, Aomine wasn't the only one who noticed. He wasn't jealous or insecure or anything since he was pretty much perfect himself, but all the attention his boyfriend got from all those women annoyed the fuck out of him, especially when they acted as if Aomine wasn't standing right here, next to them.

  Kagami took his silence as agreement. His mouth traveled down Aomine's face, pressing small kisses on his sweaty brow, his burning cheeks, before claiming his lips.

  Kagami's lips were plump and smooth against Aomine's dry, chapped ones, making the younger one feel kinda bad for his state, but Kagami didn't mind. He kissed Aomine as he always did, deeply, passionately, with one hand supporting the back of his head.

  He was like that, supportive. That was one of the many reasons why Aomine loved him, the unconditional supportiveness, occasionally laced with critique and unsolicited advice. He needed that. When they first met, he was hating on the only thing the really loved - basketball - but Kagami somehow managed to pull him out of the black hole. The redhead had his back through thick and thin, through Aomine's coming out and the shit-storm that ensued then, through their last year of high school, through all the tests and games and everything that seemed so impossible.

  It was nice, having someone to lean on, even though he'd deny ever needing it if anyone asked.

  They kissed until he was out of breath. Fuck you, clogged nose! Seriously, cold was such a turn-off, at least for him. He suspected that Kagami would go all the way, uncaring that he might actually catch the dreadful illness too, but Aomine didn't really feel like doing anything besides snuggling and bitching by this point. He didn't fancy having to stop bouncing on that dick just because he had to blew his nose every two minutes, sorry. The best part was that even though Kagami grumbled a bit, he understood. Somehow, Kagami always understood him and when he didn't, he at least tried and that itself should be considered success since there were times when not even Aomine understood himself.

  Anyway, it's been three days since the great Aomine Daiki chose to seclude himself from the rest of the world to battle the monster of cold and he was nowhere closer to winning. He was gross, seriously. As if the constant runny nose wasn't enough, his lungs also decided they wanted to leave his body, so when Kagami leaned in to kiss him that evening, he broke into the biggest coughing fit of his life, successfully slaughtering whatever let's-play-doctor thoughts the redhead might harbor.

  So, here he was, alone in the darkened apartment, dressed in nothing but sweat-drenched sleeping shirt and pair of boxers, basically invisible under the heavy blanket. Kagami was gone. He took the money and disappeared, leaving Aomine to his fate. He dozed off at some point, dreamed about wide, firm chest with the softest hair that always tickled his face every time he rested his head there and the kindest, most sinful smile ever.

  He could be asleep for twenty minutes, thirty tops, when the lock clicked open and the redhead stepped into their tiny hall, toeing out of his shoes.

  Aomine cracked one eye open, gaze skimming over Kagami's form. His cheeks were flushed dark in the dim orange light of their Ikea lamp, probably thanks to the cold wind outside. He shook off his jacket and hanged it next to Aomine's coat before stepping into the room, large, flat box in hand.

  "Your pizza has arrived, my prince," he huffed with the slightest hint of smile, "so don't pretend you're asleep. I walked five blocks.."

  Somewhere in the fort of bed sheets, Aomine's feverish face split in a smile. Find someone who will love you through thick and thin, they say. Well, he was no love professional, but if going out in the dead of the night to get your sneezing, coughing, constantly bitching boyfriend his favorite pizza wasn't love, then he didn't know what was.


End file.
